Page 82 of Waking Roslyn

Lisette took a slow, deliberate breath and redirected the conversation. “Very well. Then we should discuss arrangements for Rose’s travel. A pair of guards to escort her, though I suppose one would be tolerable if you can’t spare the two.”

“I will send a maid and a coachman,” Edmund said between bites of roasted duck.

“And a soldier, of course,” Lisette prompted.

He shook his head with a frown. “No soldier. She does not need it.”

“But, my dear.”

He set down his fork with a longsuffering sigh and looked up at Lisette. “If her parents did not mind sending her to you without an escort when she was only thirteen, surely she’ll be fine returning to her home with several servants to accompany her. And come to think of it, why do her own parents not send an escort?” He finally turned to look at me.

I couldn’t hold his gaze. My parents hadn’t sent an escort because I’d convinced them years ago that I was perfectly safe, and very well looked after by Edmund. Yes, I had lied.

“I am as concerned for your welfare as my wife is,” Edmund went on, “but I think you’ll agree she’s overreacting.” He went back to his meal, muttering at his plate as he cut off another bite. “She’s not a blasted queen. She’s not you,” he said as he looked up at Lisette. “And I will not waste my resources.”

“But, Edmund—”

He slammed his fork down on the table beside his plate and silenced her with a look. All further discussion died.

I held myself together through the rest of dinner, but on my way up to my room, the guard who had insulted me was standing with another guard at the other end of the corridor, and when he saw me, he made no attempt to hide the way his eyes scraped over me. It was all I could do to hold my head high and walk up the stairs. This house had been my haven. But first Lord Farbury had shown up, and then Edmund hit me, and now this guard was looking at me as if he wanted something from me.

I hated it. I hated them all for ruining this small bit of peace that I’d started to believe in. This one place where I’d thought I could fit.

John

It was as if we’d gone backwards. Rose didn’t even seem to be trying to wield the knife the proper way. Her return home was fast approaching, and I was desperate to give her as much skill and confidence as I could. I’d put a real knife in her hand and stood beside her so that she could practice thrusting the blade into the air in front of her. But the moment that metal rested in her hand, she’d deflated.

“You act as if you don’t truly want to learn,” I cajoled, shoving down all my frustrations in the hopes that I could tease her into a better mood.

“Because I don’t!”

The smile dropped from my face. Sometimes I forgot how different Rose was from all my other training companions.

“This!” she said, holding the knife out in front of her. “This terrifies me. I hate it. I don’t want it in my hand. I don’t want to know how to use it.” She flung it aside, and the blade planted itself in the earth. Rose pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead and turned her back on me for a few moments before whirling back. “I don’t know that I could use it even if I had to.”

Her earnest confession made my heart drop. “Yes, you could.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” I insisted. “If your life depended on it, you could.”

Sudden tears filled her eyes. “If my life must depend on hurting another, I am doomed.”

I hated that I understood what she meant. Rose was one of the most tender-hearted people I’d ever met. Not just because it was part of who she was, but because her heart had been broken for a long time. Broken by the betrayal of her countrymen, broken by the loss of her parents. Broken by her constant need to make herself small.

“You are not doomed. You won’t be alone. Surely whatever guards go with you—”

“There will be no guards,” she yelled in frustration.

Somehow my low opinion of Rockwell sank even lower. “Lord Rockwell is not sending a guard with you?”

“Why would he?” She paced back and forth like a cornered animal, grabbing the staff that leaned against a tree and twisting her hands around it. “He does not know my situation. To him, I am simply his wife’s cousin. A gentlewoman, well-bred, but of no true significance. What protection would I need beyond the coachman who will escort me and a maid to keep things respectable?”

An icy dread crawled across my skin. “Rose, you can’t go without protection.”

She shook her staff at me. “I know that, but what am I supposed to do? There’s only so much actual control that I have over my life.” She tossed the staff down and covered her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I don’t know what else to do.”

I was at a loss. The thought of allowing her to make the journey without protection was unthinkable. I wanted to hate Rockwell for it, but with his limited understanding of her situation, I knew Rose was right. They’d given him no real reason to believe that she required a protective escort.